Silenced
by darkness4love
Summary: Amy had shouted for Tom to turn on the lantern that he brought, but he did not. A cold and dreadful feeling crept up their spines as a low moan came to them. They couldn't see it, but they felt it. A cold breath blew in their faces. It smelt of death. Dread filled their souls as the mass of darkness advanced closer.Tom, knowing exactly what was happening, couldn't help but chuckle
1. Prologue

_Darkness clouds the mind, poisons the heart, and muffles what is just._

_But to whom do I now trust?_

_Abandoned, loathed, and feared;_

_I'd rather be revered ._

_How to attain such goal?_

_The desire burns in my soul._

_I will make them all pay,_

_On this faithful day._

_I will play their lives as a game._

_And soon, very soon, they will come to fear my name... _

" You have something I want," The boy sneered as he shoved the younger boy into the hallway. No one could hear the dispute. Most weren't even present in the small orphanage, for the other children had taken leave to stay outside in the summer evening.

The younger boy glared hatefully at his aggressor, " Let me alone. I've no business with you-"

"- No business with me? Ha, I don't give a bloody damn if you do or not, Riddle. Now give me that book!"

Tom Riddle looked down at the book clutched in both his hands. It was a black book, bound with leather, and finished with a gold strap fashioned to keep it closed. The pages were new and crisp, appearing as the perfect writing journal. It was also the only thing that Tom had ever really had to call _**his **_own. Being raised in an orphanage, he was abandoned and left with naught. Most of the other children stayed a distance from him, as if they were afraid. Though, they had reason to be; Tom Riddle was well known for his temper.

But not known to the ways of the brute leering before him. The orphanage matron's grandson, Richard Cole. He only ever came to visit on occasion. Whenever he did, he always harassed the other children and robbed them of what little they had. Tom, finding this behavior to be of distaste, stayed out of Richards' sight whenever possible. Little did he know that he would suffer the fate of encountering him on this day.

Richard shoved Tom hard, " Give it here!"

"No," Tom glared, clutching the book closer to his chest. His back was against the wall, and Richard blocked all possible escape.

"You little-" Richard took the younger boy by the collar firmly, tightening his hold.

Tom tried to push him off, but was unsuccessful. His small frame simply couldn't fight off the older boy. But he wouldn't give up, " Back off. Or else..."

"Or else what? You'll call your mummy and daddy? That's rich, " Richard sneered. He recoiled, however, when Tom Riddle's dark eyes grew darker. A cold, icy feeling crept up the older boys back, sending him staggering backwards, " W-what the hell are you doing...?" He slurred nervously.

Tom advanced forward; Richard jumped and backed away as the hallway suddenly grew dark. The doors around them began to shake with a steady rumble at first, then they steadily became more violent as the hall darkened further.

" I told you to back off. Now you must be punished..." Tom stepped forward and opened his palm to the boys face. A rattling noise shook behind Richard, but it was too late for him to notice as he backed against the window.

The older boy had a shocked look on his painted on his paled face when he realized what was happening, " No … no please don't ..." He pleaded through a sob.

Tom's shrill laugh cut through his pleads, " All birds need to be dropped in order to fly. Your mummy and daddy isn't here to save you now." Viciously, he pushed the boy. Richard fell out the opened window.

A terrible scream let out for what it seemed like ages when he fell the whole two stories. It was silenced, however, once he hit the ground. Shouts and screams could be heard from outside as all gathered to aid the boy.

Acting as if nothing happened, Tom walked down the staircase. The darkness was gone, and the quacking had stilled. He could hear voices coming from the front doorway.

" An earthquake-?"

"-why was he near the window-?"

"-who opened the window?"

The boys limp body was carried hurriedly to the sitting parlor, where he was laid on the sofa. Tom came near and stood in the archway, staring at the boy fascinated, _He survived_, He mused.

Blood was present on Richards left temple; his gaze was glazed over and unfocused as he tried to regain consciousness.

" Richard! Richard, darling! Oh speak to me, what happened child?" The orphanages matron, Mrs. Cole, asked of the boy as she pressed a towel to the blood.

Richard shuddered and spoke with a quivering voice, " I-I fell … wanted to see a bird … I fell …"

" Shh, hush now, it's going to be okay. Hughes! Go call the doctor immediately!" She shouted to one of the volunteers. He nodded and scurried away to the telephone, passing Tom, of whom had gone unnoticed through the whole scene.

With a dark grin, Tom turned and walked up the stairs. He found it effortless to manipulate the mind of such a simple boy. He DID warn him too, so he didn't punish the boy unjustly. He merely saw it as teaching the wrong sort the right lesson …

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Late in the night a soft bang woke Tom from his slumber. Sitting up in his bed, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. Unable to see what was the cause of the noise, he climbed out of bed and went to the window. As he opened it, he took a step back in surprise.

Laying on the sill was an immense, viper. It's body was longer to that of Tom's. He did not back away from the curious specimen, rather he stood and marveled at it's beauty. It's mouth opened to reveal long, sharp fangs that seemed to extend to him a greeting as it spoke in whispers.

_You are the boy who can talk to ussss, aren't you..? _It asked, swaying it's head from side to side as it gazed at the boy through slitted pupils.

" Yes ..." Tom whispered, " How did you know that?"

The snake bowed it's head, _You are the heir of Slytherin, you have the powers to talk to usssss. I have heard your whispers... _

Tom inclined his head, " Heir of who? I have never heard that name before..."

The snake bowed deeply before slithering down the side of the house, _You will come to know in good time, Master, _It whispered as it slithered away. Tom went quickly to the sill and looked down, but the snake was gone.

Frustrated, Tom sat on his bed and looked out the window into the star scattered night. The moon shone brighter then before, it seemed, yet Tom could not help but feel perturbed at the snakes arrival. Surely it wasn't the first time he had spoken to a snake; they came to him and whispered secrets, and sometimes they would help by telling him when the mean children were coming to find him. Ever since he was a young child he knew that he wasn't like the other children. He preferred to be alone and talk to snakes. He could also do harm to those who bothered him.

He honestly didn't know why certain events transpire. Whenever he was angry, he could hurt people and animals around him. His very existence was a mystery to himself. When left alone, it made him question himself often.

Silently, he stood and picked up the black leather diary from the place it rested atop his desk. Turning it over, his thumb traced over the gold letters, _Tom Marvolo Riddle. _It was all he had to prove that he was really a person with a name. No just some number entered into the orphanages record book. The book he held was the only thing he had of his own, because it was the only thing left for him when he was born at the orphanage.

He placed the book back on his desk and peered out the window once more. Not much was ever said about his parents. Other then the fact that the matron Mrs. Cole thought that his mother might have been a circus performer and that she died in child birth. She also said his mother wished that Tom would look like his father and be named after him. That was all the information he had. Not even the records kept in Wool Orphanages' document room had enough information to satisfy Tom's search. Part of the boy wanted to give up searching all together. But now, now he had a name to look for.

_Slytherin,_ or so the snake spoke. A name of which Tom had never heard before. Yet it was presented to him like a long lost item, valuable and rare. Rare enough to peak his interest because it was new to him and valuable because it was yet another thing he could hold on to. The only thing that came to him as a problem was figuring out where the name came from.

Realizing his tired state, he went back into bed. His dreams were fitful, full of snakes and secrets. Slytherin could be hear in some parts of his dream, yet he could never seem to hear it fast enough to respond. He only knew what he did:

He isn't nothing.

He is an Heir.

An Heir to Slytherin,

And His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.


	2. Darkness Inside

The sky outside was covered in clouds, looking as if it might rain it's tears on such a melancholy world. Not a single speck of life could be seen outside of his window as he sat in his chair, looking forlornly at the sky. He wished for change. He longed for it. The usual patterns painted in his life simply wasn't enough to sake his taste for adventure. He also had a name.

_Slytherin. _

One name which he had held onto since the encounter with the serpent a few weeks ago. Ever since then he had occupied his time with shuffling through the orphanages papers, trying to find any hint that he was an heir to someone important. There was only the usual information that left Tom dissatisfied with the results. Somewhere inside of himself he knew full well that the information on himself wouldn't have changed from the last time he looked, but he hoped. Hope was the only thing he had to hold onto anymore.

Silently, he rose from his seat, walking to his wardrobe. He opened the wooden doors and withdrew a tin box. Inside was an assortment of possessions from some of the other children that he had come to acquire. More or less, he wanted to steal possessions to fill the own void in is life. He had less then the other children, and naturally saw that as unfair. These particular possessions were special, however. The provided him with pride as each individual piece reminded him of the deeds that have been done to the other children. They served as reminders of his power and what he was capable of doing to people who harmed him. He even stole a button from Richard Coles' coat as he passed by the coat rack, just to remind him of the justified deed that had been done to the boy.

Carefully, Tom placed the possessions back into the box, including the harmonica of which he had received from another boy who called him a child because he wouldn't play rugby with him. Tom served him justice by making a snake crawl up the same tree that the boy was climbing to retrieve the ball. Surprised, the boy saw the snake and screamed, falling out of the tree. He bit his tongue in half when he fell and jammed his jaw on the ground, so Tom figured that the boy wouldn't be able to play the harmonica anyways.

He heard a knock at the door, in which case it opened without response. A boy by the name of Ander walked in without consulting Tom and confronted the young boy, " Do you know where my rabbit is, Tom?"

Coldly, Tom glared at the intruder, " Why would I know where that filthy animal is? You should have taken better precautions with such a _thing,_"

The boy looked hurt at first, but then grew angry, " You're the only one who's been inside all day! How do I know that you didn't do anything to my rabbit, Riddle? "

Tom snickered, " It might as well have been eaten by a _snake, _I hear they're quite fond of rabbits."

Ander grew red with anger, " Liar, he wasn't eaten! You tell me where he is this instant!"

Tom sighed and placed his box inside of the wardrobe, closing the wooden doors as they groaned in protest. He then proceeded to sit atop his bed and stare coldly at Ander, "I don't know where your animal is. Now leave me be."

Ander sniffed and left, slamming the door behind him. Tom, irritated, got up and walked to his window. He looked out it for a long time, hoping to see the snake once more. It was more or less a ritual now- everyday he would peer out the window into the lawn in hopes of seeing the snake from that night. It seemed so long ago now, but he still waited. The only thing he could do was desperately long for answers.

Something did catch in eye, however. White and timid, a domesticated rabbit crouched low in the abundance of grass. Its' ears were perked high, listening to everything around it. It took careful steps as to not encourage any predators to leap onto it. After all, a rabbit only had so little survival skills against a snake. And a certain snake laid eyes on its prey.

Extending a hand out the open window, his power took control of his actions. It was a curious power of which he had abused for purposes such as these. He managed to grasp the rabbit and bring it towards him, levitating it high into the air until it rested in Tom's hand. His fingers squeezed at the creatures soft neck, feeling the pulse quicken in the small body. It's red eyes were full of terror as its air supply was being chocked off. High little screams could be heard coming from it's mouth.

With a twisted grin, Tom could only take pleasure in torturing the innocent creature. He then let his grip loosen, allowing the rabbit to breath once more. Visibly it shook in his hand, and that made him even more pleased. The only thing Tom was thinking about was how he could make this torture more interesting. Looking around his room, his eyes came upon an old pair of trainers. He took one of the shoes in his hand and removed the lace. Holding the lace at eye level, he concluded that it would be the prefect length.

Walking over to his window, he tied the shoe lace around the rabbits neck and tightened the knot. Letting the rabbit go, he levitated it to the rafters above his room. Tying the lace onto one of the beams, he hung the rabbit. It's shrill screams could be heard from inside of the orphanage. Children rushed out to see what was the cause of such a terrible noise, only to see the rabbit hanging from the rafters. It's struggling body swung to and fro, until it feel silent.

Among the children was Ander, of whom looked terrified at the whole scene. Absently, he placed his hands over his eyes. When he removed them he looked up to see Tom standing at his window, laughing...

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

The next day Tom learned that Ander told Mrs. Cole of his crime, and that irritated him to no end. This was the second negative strike against him. The first being a few months ago when he went into a cave with two orphans named Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson.

The two had teased Tom about being a scared little boy who refused to go into the dark cave. Little did they know, Tom was well familiar with the cave. He said he would go if they came with him, and they did. He sensed at the time that the two were more excited then afraid. But Tom knew that would all change soon.

Once then entered the cave through a crack in an immense bolder, Amy and Dennis were surprised by the darkness. They couldn't see anything, and when Tom moved away from them, they became worried. Amy had shouted for Tom to turn on the lantern that he brought, but he did not. Alone and scared, the two held onto one another. A cold and dreadful feeling crept up their spines as a low moan came to them. They couldn't see it, but they felt it. A cold breath blew in their faces. It smelt of death. Dread filled their souls as the mass of darkness advanced closer.

Tom, knowing exactly what was happening, couldn't help but chuckle. He Finally lit the lamp only to make the darkened mass visible, revealing it's disfigured face and rotted corpse cloaked in a black wispy cloth.. Tom turned the lamp off and told the darkened figure to leave. Once it did, the children ran out of the cave, crying. They went to Mrs. Cole, but they couldn't speak. Tom was seen coming from behind them through the doorway.

The matron looked at the boy, a grin embedded on his face as he passed her; walking up the staircase to his room. Though she had no proof that he had done anything, he was of suspect. From that day on, Mrs Cole was naturally suspicious of his actions and motives towards the other children. He even secretly believed that she blamed him for Richard Coles' injuries- of which he had actually had a hand in.

Tom could hear voices from down the hallway. Two people were talking as they went along. He hurriedly went to his door and pressed his ear against the wood, listening intently.

_'He isn't quite right … I think he may be mad. He terrorizes the other children and always spends his time alone …' _ He heard Mrs. Cole say.

He heard another voice, but was not familiar with it, _' He may have some sort of physiological trauma, or pent up anger. Many children have such symptoms at this age, especially when they start to search for a sense of identity. He's, what now, eleven years? Ah yes, it is merely a phase, I assure you."_

The voice that Tom heard was a deep males voice, it held a lot of confidence in its words. Yet he found the man to be a fool, trying to know the feelings of an eleven year old boy was one thing, but to assume that he knew what Tom was feeling seemed moronic to him.

As their footsteps came closer, he could hear Mrs. Cole say, _' He isn't like all the other children though … he is different. You'll see,' _The footsteps stopped at his door and a soft knock sounded, "Tom?"

She opened the door without further word and smiled meekly, " I have a visitor for you. This is Doctor Harold, and he has come to see you."

A man with square spectacles and a rough beard reached his hand out to Tom, " How do you do, son?"

Reluctantly, Tom took the doctors hand and shook it. He let go quickly, but not so in a way that the man would be offended. The three stood there for an instant before Mrs. Cole said that she had to leave, closing the door behind her.

Tom's dark eyes gazed at the door before meeting the doctors face. He seemed kind enough, but Tom knew he wasn't there to be beneficial to _him_. This doctor was there to diagnose him with some condition that he was not influenced by. Tom knew he was different from the other children, but he also knew he wasn't mental either.

" Do you know why I am here today, Tom Riddle?" The man asked, standing at the doorway. Tom hated that he said his name in such a casual manner. Mostly because his name was very common that he found it to be boring. Even so, he already hated this man for speaking to him in such a light manner.

"You are here to treat me for an illness, right?" Tom asked back, his tone was lighter then usual. He saw that one of his better options was to play the role of an innocent boy.

The doctor walked over to Tom's window, staring out it for an instant. Tom noticed that his gaze traveled up to the rafters above, analyzing them for quite some time before he turned around to address the boy once more.

" You may be ill, or you may not. I believe that you are going through unexplainable changes in your life and you are having trouble handling those changes. It is nothing to be afraid of, Tom, you are merely going through a phase. A phase of finding identity, " The doctor concluded, crossing his arms and looking directly at Tom through his square spectacles.

Tom felt slightly uncomfortable with what this doctor said, mainly because some bits of it were true. He was indeed looking for a sense of identity, but he knew it was no phase. He was different … _different_.

The word stung a little. He didn't know why it hurt to admit it now, surely he had sorted through his differences before. Maybe it was the subconscious feeling that came with not being able to get help. Helplessness was never something that he worried about since he learned how to use his power. His power was always there to be manipulated at his disposal and used against people who harmed him. He shielded himself and vowed to never get hurt again.

The doctor looked at Tom for a long time before he spoke, " I don't believe that you are ill, Tom. I think that you might be a special case. One that is far beyond my expertise. From the reports I've been given, you are certainly not a normal boy. No normal boy can climb rafters from this high."

Silently, Tom stared back at the man. There were on level grounds of understanding. He knew that Dr. Harold was onto Tom, but he wasn't willing to give him any answers When the doctor asked him questions, Tom would give a mediocre response. Finally, Dr. Harold walked to the door and opened it.

" I must say, Tom, you are an intelligent boy. You know when to put up your shields and keep everyone else out. I may not be able to help you, but I know someone who can … you may have a completely different _mindset _then most children your age," He walked out the door and left Tom to seethe in anger.

The doctor thought him mental? Tom was furious. He went to his window quickly, watching the man leave. He thought of what wretched things he could do to the man who dared called him mental. It wasn't fair of him to say that, especially since he had no idea _what _he was. Tom knew he was not mental. And that doctor would pay.

A sleek black car was parked in front, in the place where the doctor was walking towards. Tom opened his window and extended his hand. A little ignite, even the littlest of power would suffice for what he was going to do. He focused hard, closing his eyes and envisioning it happening. When he opened his eyes, the car burst into flames, engulfing it in an angry array of red and orange.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Dr. Harold watched as his car combusted from the outside. The heat was unreal as well as the whole display. Slowly, he turned around to face Wool Orphanage. Tom Riddle was standing at his window, silently staring...

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Once he finally got home after the incident in regards to his flamed car, he searched for a piece of parchment and a quill. He wrote a few words onto it explaining the situation. He then proceeded to make his way out the door with the letter in hand.

Sweat formed on his brow as he went his way down the halls of the apartment building. He stopped at room nine, knocking on the door quickly. He waited for a few moments before it opened. A man with short brown hair and stubble on his chin stood at the doorway, looking at the man with paper clutched in his hands.

" Dr. Harold, what is it I can do for you?" He asked in a gruff tone. It seemed like the man was very tired, even his eyes had bags under them. Though the doctor knew that he wasn't getting any younger either.

" Aberforth, I have a letter for your brother. Can you please send it to him? I have found another one … except his powers are frightening," Dr. Harold said in a hushed tone.

Aberforth gave the Doctor a strange look, but then nodded, " I see … I will send it to him. Frightening you say? How frightening?"

"Frightening enough to make my car explode into flames … he's a mere child too!"

Looking at the letter in his hand, Aberforth sighed, " I'd hope to not get involved with my brothers business, but for you to come to me with this I honestly can't refuse. Who ever this child is, he sounds more dangerous then the others that you have diagnosed. I will make haste then. You'd best be on your way before the neighbors get suspicious. I have an image to keep you know ..."

" I know, Aberforth, I won't keep you. Thank you for your time," The Doctor said with relief. He went back to his room as Aberforth closed his door.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Aberforth, having taken the letter in his hand, went to his caged owl at the window. Opening the door, the brown owl flew out and rested on Aberforth's arm. He tied the letter to its leg, " Take this to Albus Dumbledor, professor of transfiguration. He should know what to do." He then opened the window, watching the magnificent wings beat strongly in the wind of dawn.

Sighing, Aberforth sat in his usual green chair. The flat was a simple set up, one kitchen fit for two, one restroom, sitting parlor, and bedroom. His reasons for being there were simple. He was trying to keep away from the wizarding world for as long as possible. After the death of his sister he couldn't bring himself to go back to the life that he once lived. It had been twelve years since then. He decided that he needed a break from wizardly contact, yet that persistent doctor was always bidding his time and asking him to send letters to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Aberforth had known the doctor for quite sometime. He went to school at Hogwarts with his brother, Rupert Harold. A muggle born -or not of wizardly blood descent- who was a very smart man. Aberforth liked the man, mainly because he served a great purpose for being an inspiration to most of the muggle born wizards and witches. After Hogwarts, Rupert went on to work at the Ministry of magic for the law enforcement division. His younger brother, Doctor Nicolas Harold didn't share in his brothers talents, but served the muggle world a great deed by becoming a Doctor. He saw people with physical and psychological needs.

Because of Aberforth's connections, Doctor Harold often asked favors of him. When he found children who needed to go to Hogwarts, he contacted Aberforth. Dr. Harold pleaded to Aberforth. He told him that so many of the children were misunderstood and needed to go to school for better understanding of how to deal with their powers. Maybe it was the understanding of his own brother that influenced Nicholas to be involved with the children. Nevertheless, Aberforth took pity for the children and sent letters to his brother, Albus.

Albus Dumbledor always knew how to handle children in these special cases. Inviting them to Hogwarts as soon as they turned eleven, he always dealt with them in a professional manner. A big change from how he used to be, but Aberforth came to accept this new change. He hardly held bitterness for his brother because secret admiration crept into his heart. Albus always acted accordingly for any situation. More so since he matured greatly after becoming a professor. Though Aberforth always thought his older brother to be difficult to reason with, Albus seemed to make do with what he was given. At the present time, he would be given a challenge. A young boy with frightening powers.

Most children could never harness the power of their abilities at a young age without the proper training. Yet Dr. Harold spoke of a boy who set his car on fire without being near it. Albus was in for a challenge indeed...

Aberforth had only one question: Will his brother be able to handle this situation with as much ease as he normally does?


End file.
